Chapter Text
“Small animals burden themselves, taking on things that aren’t fit for them—that’s why they cry out for help.”
-Hibari Kyouya
The Hibari family has always been strong.
Through Fon, they held strong ties to the Chinese triads. At the behest of the previous Hibari matriarch, the Hibari family held a stronghold in Namimori, ruling all legal and illegal activities within it with an iron fist.
Hibari Kyouya takes after his mother, ruling just as if not more fiercely. He bit all threats to death. He maintained order. Peace in Namimori was ascertained in an age where aggressive herbivores, herbivores who seemed to think they were carnivores, seemed to run amok. Hibari Kyouya was satisfied with his work, and he believed that he would live the rest of his life as the sole apex protector of Namimori.
Then, at the ripe age of fifteen, Hibari Kyouya forged an unbreakable bond with the future Tenth Generation Vongola Boss. He would never admit this, of course—if he did Tsunayoshi would be overcome with joy—and he feigned his indifference through his distance: by staying in Namimori, in Japan, creating the Foundation, while the rest of the famiglia had moved on to Italy.
Yet, just like the Cloud Flames he wields, Hibari was always hovering. As much as he denied it, the Foundation, which was loosely associated with Vongola, was ultimately another avenue to support and protect his Sky.
And so, Hibari's life went like this: Run the Foundation. Dominate Japan’s underworld activities. Reform all levels of law enforcement (he was still working on that abhorrent Hero Commission, but that will come with time). Have lunch with Tsunayoshi every other Tuesday evening. Family time, Tsunayoshi once called it to his face, smiling beatifically, and Hibari had wacked him in the arm with a tonfa.
Hibari was never close with his family.
His father was… there. Hibari Ryuko died when Kyouya was fourteen. His uncle, Fon, was busy with the Chinese triad. He had aunts, cousins, somewhere in Japan, but most had almost completely disassociated themselves with the main branch of the Hibari family out of fear of the fiercely cold Hibari Ryuko and her notoriously bloodthirsty son.
So it was surprising, when Hibari receives a desperate voicemail from Todoroki Rei, to the Hibari household’s landline phone number.
“Hello,” the recording says, voice trembling. “Hello. My husband, Todoroki Enji, is in the hospital. There was a fight with a villain… and now he’s in a coma. They don’t think he’s going to wake up. My children… they tell me they’re fine, but they’re… they’re not. My oldest, Touya… I feel like he’s been hanging around a bad crowd, and I—I can’t get through to him. Natsuo plays videogames all day and won’t come out of his room. My daughter smiles at me, but she, there’s this look in her eyes… and my youngest, Shouto, he’s been, he says things a child shouldn’t have to say, tells me he doesn’t want his father to w—I-I don’t know what to do.” A shaky exhale. “I don’t know what I’m doing, calling like this.” A shaky cry. “You’ve been dead for so long. I miss you, Ryuko-obasan. I wish you could tell me what to do.”
The recording cuts.
Hibari Kyouya stares down at the landline phone.
And he plays the recording again.